


And I Think It's Gonna Be A Long Long Time...

by gabewritesnsfw (gabewrites)



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Omorashi, Other, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 19:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19279945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabewrites/pseuds/gabewritesnsfw
Summary: If Taron had any advice for filming it would be to make sure to take breaks between scenes and costume changes so you don't get trapped in a costume while trying to go to the bathroom- and no. It's never happened to him, he's just saying Theoretically-





	And I Think It's Gonna Be A Long Long Time...

**Author's Note:**

> Dude u know the drill, dont read this. Dont do it. Straight up? Piss. 
> 
> Its been a while huh.

Taron was powering through all the filming, he really was. It was hot in all the get ups that filming Rocketman required him to wear, and even more annoying to get out of the fucking things after he'd gotten real stuck in them, but he was getting the job done, eventually too lost in the film to notice. His sheer emotion and emersion kept him going, putting him in the moment and making him forget about the occasionally uncomfortable fashion choices. 

The latest was the Dodger Stadium outfit, nowhere near as tight as it could have been, but tight enough to feel stuck in. Especially when someone else had to zip it shut up his side from the bottom where he couldn't reach easily. It didn't have a lot of stretch to it, the material digging into his thigh if he pulled it too far, but he slowly learned how to move in the thing. He did find it somewhat empowering for the first few minutes, just as he did with every outfit, but the magic was starting to wear off when he had to try to hit a baseball out of the air perfectly for the 15th time. 

They were running late, trying to knock out the last scheduled shot of the day before getting some rest, and Taron hadn't gotten a break...maybe all day. He vaguely remembered stopping for lunch and being handed a bottle of cold water as a refresher before he was booted right back to set, and it had been a good few hours since then. He could feel his stomach start rumbling for dinner at some point after the first few takes. But he stayed focused on the scene until his foot started tapping, his mind and body getting restless and they pushed him through another take and he slowly struggled to perform. 

He was going to need that break, but he wanted that god forsaken baseball to get hit just right before he resigned himself to 50 more takes tomorrow- a complete redo. He wanted that outfit done and gone for good, so when he got a good hit on the baseball he ran with it and showed off before hopping off of the piano, the energy there until the jump jostled him a bit and left him unsettled. He shifted to press his thighs together when he heard the 'CUT,' and noticed the pressure then, but he was interrupted as quick as he'd felt it. "Right there! The energy after you hit the ball, I need that the whole time." Taron nodded and gripped the bat in his hands, shifting his weight and biting his bottom lip.

He couldn't stop for a break now, not when he was hot on the trail of giving Dex the shot he wanted. Instead he shifted again and nodded in response, covering up an impatient grunt. He hadn't paid attention since starting the scene, but he probably had to take a piss about an hour ago. He just hadn't moved the right way to bring up the sensation until that jump. It was fine. One or two more takes and he was finished for the day and could fix himself up proper in the men's room, forget the long day of retry after retry. But he sure as hell was having trouble listening, as he couldn't remember a thing after Dex had told him, "Amazing energy!" He only vaguely remembered being told to act overly confident. 

His stride got shorter, but there was no toning down the posing, legs spread and pressure on his bladder. He pulled through again with confidence, style, even, and waited to make any weird noises or exclamations until he heard cut again. The jump shook him up again. Made it feel like every glass of water he'd had since lunch had just then decided to drop into his bladder He gritted his teeth together to conceal an, "oh shit…" Dex turned to him with a happy glint in his eye and asked for one more, told him to mix excitement with the confidence that he'd mastered. Taron wiggled a little in place and let out a sharp breath when every step seemed to aggravate the issue. 

Back to square one. Posing, climbing onto the piano. He forced his legs to stay open and hoped that the light shiver that he felt shake through his thighs wouldn't make it into the movie. He hit that baseball like his life depended on it, and the smug little smirk on his face stuck when he posed again after. he fought off the tremble in his thighs and ignored the way his bladder felt too full. It was easy to feel the way his stomach pressed up against his costume, keeping the pressure consistent as his bladder bulged. The way he nearly whined when leaning forward made him fear for his dignity, and shake himself off before preparing for the leap he was about to endure again.

He stayed smiling, in perfect acting form, if anything just a little jittery, and then he hopped down from the piano, pausing for a moment too long as he felt the tiniest, uncalled for leak into the thin briefs that he wore under his costume. Warm, inviting, just a taste of release that had Taron physically restraining from grabbing himself through the front of his pants. He hoped the embarrassment and urgency he felt wasn't showing on his face, but the flush felt apparent as he braved his way through the rest of the scene, repeating to himself in his head that he was almost done,  _ almost done,  _ and that the bathroom was right off set down the hall to the right- "CUT!" 

Taron would have been lying if he didn't admit he was panicked, never having been in such a state of true desperation that he had to resort to pressing his thighs together, not able to sit still, teeth digging into his lip as he waited. He was quite sure another take wasn't going to happen without an accident that was an embarrassment to him and everyone around him. So the audible, breathy sigh of relief when the words, "that's it, we've got it!" followed the cut, was completely understandable and unavoidable as he quite literally ran in the direction of the bathroom with no warning, the urgency of a few short lived leaks into his briefs spurring him on again. 

He wasn't about to let anything more than that happen in front of the whole crew, and was much more content to explain his disappearance in a humorous conversation later that became a funny anecdote about the toughest scene to get through during filming. He could barely think straight when he flung the bathroom door open, not even waiting for it to close behind him before he was running to the toilet and trying to get his pants undone so that he could finally empty his poor bladder out after a day of mistreatment- until he realized he wasn't wearing pants. 

"Fuck- ah...shit- oh no…ah-mmm?" 

And he panicked, grabbing himself through his sparkly bedazzled costume and trying to remember how to get it off.

He could feel his control slipping as he squeezed his thighs against each other tight, trying not to double over and press on his bladder even more. One hand stayed with a firm hold on his dick through his trousers (as if that would help) while the other hurriedly searched for a zipper or a button or whatever the fuck had trapped him in the hellish one piece suit that no one had thought to give an easy way out for emergencies like that one. His shaky fingers managed to grab ahold of a zipper hidden on his side, but only got down an inch or two before he felt a wave of pressure wash over him, enough piss leaking out that he knew it was going to soak through the outfit he was wearing soon if he didn't get it the fuck off. The hand on his front cupped around himself and got squeezed half between his thighs, a steady, frustrated hum of, "Mmmm- mmmm, shit-" signaling how far gone he really was.

He had gotten the zipper down far enough to slip one arm out but couldn't get the thing far down at all, nowhere near far down enough to get to anything he needed, and he couldn't bring his other hand to move when his breath shook and his thighs trapped his arm in place. There was no way he was getting out of it. And he stared at the toilet wondering if being near it was even worth the effort when he couldn't hold back the stream trickling slowly down his leg no matter how hard he tried, he face burning red as his free hand covered it. Maybe trying to maintain dignity. Trying to force himself not to look even though it was apparent that it felt good, the unbridled line of, "oh fuck- ahhh...mmm, oh no, no, no, no, shit…" coming out high and with disbelief as his legs shook and he thought his knees would give out. 

He felt out of breath, as if exhausted from fighting a losing battle, and when he felt warmth trailing down his inner thighs slowly, material dampening with no remorse, he panicked and sat himself down on the toilet after finding no other hope in sight. And a much too loud, "oh- jesus christ, I can't- I can't...ah nnm...mmm, fuck!" Was all that he could say when he really lost all control, piss flooding out and soaking his left leg regardless of his attempt to sit on the toilet, only a few stray drops finding their way there. Tease of a trickling noise into water. He crossed his legs in a final attempt to stop but only made more of a mess, his other leg getting the same warm, embarrassing treatment as he stared down in disbelief, still unable to prevent small breathy noises, little pleased hums, harsh hitches in his breathing when his dick jolted and let out another wave of piss after he thought he was finished. 

He finally gave up when he heard his own piss spattering onto the tile and had to give into the amazing feeling of release, the pleasure overtaking what used to be an attempt at keeping his dignity. His hand was still in place, warm and, now, wet as piss streamed out between his fingers and onto the floor. He was sure his face was cherry red after seeing the puddle he was making, and he outright groaned when the stream seemed to trickle off, the soft pitter patter of the stray drops dripping on the floor keeping him flustered. The soaked bottom of his outfit continued its unending dripping onto the floor underneath him, even as he relaxed back onto the toilet that had done him absolutely no good and tried to think about what the hell he was supposed to do then. 

He whispered a soft, "fucking hell," to himself as he tried to gather his thoughts, body still tingling with the release, leaving him with a pleasureful feeling that felt dirty. Left his dick mildly interested. 

The door opened without warning and Taron scrambled to cover himself even though there was nothing and no way to possibly cover the mess, terror apparent in his eyes when Richard burst through the door that Taron had neglected to lock in his hurried thinking. "Taron? Jesus christ, mate, you scared the shit out of everyone, they said you stormed away without a word-" Before he got a good look Richard seemed full of concern, but he went silent when he got an eyeful of Taron's situation, outfit soaked through, puddle still on the floor around him, half of the top of his torso out but not fast enough. Taron was sure he'd rather be dead than soaked in his own piss and half hard in the onset bathroom.

Richard nodded as if he understood, and did a sort of double take, making sure he wasn't imagining things before gathering his thoughts. He cleared his throat and tried to work through the second hand embarrassment that flushed his face. "A towel maybe then, mate?" Taron nodded and closed his eyes, looking almost pained by his own mistake. "And a fresh change of clothes- I'll get… a mop." Taron sighed and shook his piss covered hand away from himself while holding his forehead with the other, refusing to make eye contact.

"Yeah- perfect, wonderful." Taron felt absolutely mortified, voice high and nearly sarcastic. He didn't move from his spot. "Please don't-" Taron didn't get to finish his thought before Richard got the hint, starting to slip out the door.

"We'll talk about it later-" The door shut with a gentle thud as Richard exited, a groan of frustration with his own stupidity coming out as he thought about having to explain it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled: Taron has to piss so bad he forgets how to use a zipper.


End file.
